


Breaking and Entering

by DickBaggins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Coming Untouched, Fear Play, Gunplay, M/M, Non-Con Roleplay, Roleplay, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest, Top!Sam, bottom!Dean, fear kink, virgin roleplay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 16:58:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3858133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DickBaggins/pseuds/DickBaggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean like to roleplay their weird sex stuff occasionally, so to combine their favourites, Dean's a burglar who breaks into the wrong house and gets what he deserves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sam wasn’t dreaming, or if he was, it floated away the second he started awake from the sudden jangle of noises. It was impossible to single anything out of the cacophony but it didn’t matter; he reached for the gun under his pillow, heart thudding and limbs suddenly alive. He scrambled back against the headboard and aimed, brushed sleep tangled hair out of his eyes and  _fuck_ , it was Dean, it was just Dean frozen in the doorway with his eyes wide and his hands up. Huh.

“Don’t – don’t hurt me,” Dean stuttered.

Sam was still adrenalin shaky, still blinking sleep away and slowly lowering the gun and  _what the hell was Dean doing like that_? Cowering like some scared hostage in the doorway? He shot Sam a pointed expectant look and Sam finally understood through all that slumbersome haze, just what he was supposed to be doing.

Sam jerked the gun up and sat straighter, puffing his chest up, fixing his mouth in a hard line. “Who sent you?” He growled hoarse, stripping his sheets off and standing up slowly.

Dean looked happy for a split second, one corner of his mouth tugging up, but his momentary smile changed back into fear, his eyes flickering to the gun and then back at Sam. His head tilted gently, eyes pleading. “No one, no one sent me, I just…I broke in, okay?”

They’d talked about this the night before, set most of it up and unloaded the gun but left room for surprises too; Sam’s wake up was one, and Dean’s bugler alibi another.

Sam wanted to laugh at it, but he turned it into a hard smirk instead. “Well, you did a shitty job of it. Did you seriously trip over a fucking trashcan?”

“Y-yeah, shut up,” Dean muttered, glancing at the floor, the upended garbage can he’d probably deliberately knocked over. “Just let me go, okay?” He looked back at Sam and tried for a smile but it fell immediately.

“Hm, no,” Sam countered. The gun was still raised while he padded around the bed towards Dean, purposefully going slowly, stalking. He was trying to reign in the prickly fear from the startling wake up, and Dean knew what that did to him; there was no hiding the hard ridge of his dick in his pajama pants so he didn’t even bother.

Dean’s eyes fell on it, Sam noticed, and he gasped a little, his eyes flicking back up to Sam’s face quickly. “Please, just let me leave? I didn’t take anything, I swear,” he pleaded, but he couldn’t stop glancing at Sam’s dick. “I don’t know what that’s about but-”

“That,” Sam started, grabbing the front of Dean’s shirt and hauling him up against the wall, “That’s something I save specifically for little assholes like you.”  Dean started a weak protest with his face mashed into the wall but he shut it down when Sam pressed the gun against the back of his neck, following it up with his body, jamming against Dean’s tensed muscles. “Assholes who need lessons.”

“You can just call the cops or something! Just…do that, please? Don’t…”

“Don’t what?” Sam snarled. He was fully draped around Dean, rubbing his dick slowly against the curve of Dean’s ass. “This is all on you, you know. You broke in, you got me fucking hard. Now you’ve gotta deal with it.”

“How did I get you hard, that’s fucking sick! That’s your sick fucking problem, not mine!” Dean spat out against the wall, his voice trembling a bit, in a way that made Sam push harder against him and growl even deeper.

“Shut up. It’s your problem now, isn’t it? Feel it?” Sam pressed one hand against Dean’s stomach to wrench him back more firmly against him, letting out a quiet groan of satisfaction at the friction. He tugged at Dean’s pants, just enough to see the perfect curve of his ass, to press hard onto it with his dick. “ _Big_  fucking problem, huh?”

Dean gasped against the wall,  _so fucking pretty like that,_ his face drawn in concentration like he was trying not to react but it was too much. He whined low and almost imperceptibly moved against Sam, dropping his gaze while his face went red.

“Better,” Sam said, grasping Dean’s clothes again to spin him around, manhandling him onto the floor. He went easily, blinking fast and puffing out labored breaths. His eyes flickered between the gun and Sam’s dick ceaselessly. Sam smirked smug, gently brushing the barrel against Dean’s temple, forcing Dean’s head to twist so his lips brushed Sam’s dick, still trapped in the soft pants. “Much better, yeah?”

He kept the gun there, against Dean’s head, while he tugged his dick out of his pants, inching closer to smear the drippy head around Dean’s lips. God, the look on his face just made Sam slick out more. His brother - no, the intruder - was all wide pleading eyes and war between hunger and anger and fear, puffing out hot breaths against Sam.

“The fucking mouth on you,” Sam muttered, biting his lip at the warm pressure against his head. But it wasn’t enough. “Stick your tongue out, do it right, asshole.”

Dean complied, grasping desperately at Sam’s thighs, still blinking up at him, nervous sweat beading on his forehead. He shuddered when Sam rubbed up against his tongue, but then Dean pulled back, choked down a sob. “Please, I’ve never – I don’t want to do this, I don’t know how.”

Sam chuckled rough, pressed the gun harder. He used it to guide Dean’s mouth back to his dick, gliding it along his plush, pursed out lips with a twist of his hips. “You know that just makes it hotter, right? It’s pretty easy, even for a fucking _virgin_.” Sam grasped at Dean’s chin, spreading his mouth open with his fingers and sliding his dick inside slow, inch by inch, watching the pink stretch of Dean’s mouth open up around him. It was a tight heat and a desperate treble of fear and Sam groaned. “Do a good job and maybe I’ll spare your ass, deal?”

Dean nearly choked, sputtering, eyes fixed wide on Sam. He nodded and closed his eyes and Sam felt him relaxing around his thick length, still shaky with fear but so much more plaint, so much easier for him to fuck into.

“Probably not, though,” Sam smirked, pressing in deeper, bending so he could loom completely over Dean, one hand on the back of his head for leverage, while the other kept the gun locked against Dean’s temple, gripping at it again, digging in until Dean choked around his dick again. “My lessons tend to be thorough.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuation, wherein burglar!Dean gets dicked.

 Sam pulled Dean off his dick with a sharp tug of his hair, so short that he had to really grip to get in there. Dean panted up at him, his mouth a shiny mess, eyes wide and teared up and _scared_. That look made Sam shiver and gnaw at his lip, made him want to ease off the gun pushed into Dean's temple a bit but that wasn't the game plan. Dean flinched when he pressed the cold barrel harder, sucking in a shaky breath.

“Think I'm gonna fuck you,” Sam said, slow, considering it.

They hadn't planned that far, not down to exact details but Dean could, if he wanted, safe word out of the whole thing. And it didn't look like he wanted to.

His eyes went pleading soft, actually spilling out tears in two neat rows down his cheeks. “No, no, please, just call the cops, get me locked up, just...I'll never do it again.”

“No, you won't,” Sam agreed, “Stay there.” He levelled the gun right between Dean's eyes for a moment, glaring down and hoping he had the good sense to listen. Dean didn't say anything, just blinked up and stayed put.

Sam didn't have far to go for the lube but it was far enough; by time he grabbed the bottle and turned back around, Dean had a phone in his hand. Their eyes locked. Sam watched Dean suck in a silent gasp. Sam huffed out an annoyed sigh. He should have known, shouldn't have been that trusting. He raised the gun slowly, eyes narrowing at Dean over the barrel.

But it didn't feel right, somehow, so, “Wait, red. One sec.” Sam lowered the gun, scrunching up his face in thought. Dean only sagged a fraction against the wall, watching his brother, waiting for him to explain.

“I feel like I'd probably shoot your phone,” Sam started, “But I can't actually shoot your phone. It's expensive, so...”

“I stole it, actually” Dean held it up, “You know it's like half a grand for this shit? And I just got the girl to turn around and grabbed it right outta the display case. Jesus.” He smirked just a second before his face went serious again, thoughtful. “Alright, so...you really think you could shoot it outta my hands?”

“Yeah,” Sam answered right away, pulling an indignant face. “Of course I could.”

“Or what if you missed,” Dean speculated, “And like, took off a finger or something. Would you be into that?”

Sam thought about it; Dean yowling in mock-pain and faux-dismembered and would he really _want_ to fuck him after that? Okay, _probably_ , but it was still a little too close to home. “No loss of limbs, it's kinda too...”

“Normal, right? “

“Yeah, kinda. Which is kinda fucked up anyway, so...”

“Got it. So, okay, so we come back in and bam, you blast the phone outta my hands because you're a miracle shot.”

“I _could_ do it. Anything else?”

“Nope. I'm good. On go?”

Sam agreed, nodding waiting on Dean's go, which came a few seconds later, after he took a deep breath and sunk back into scared. It was seriously beautiful to watch, gave Sam the hottest weird tight feeling in his chest, usually unwelcome but perfect right now. Then he signalled go and dropped the phone, scrambling back away from where it had been ostensibly shot, his breathing audible across the room.

“Could've been you, you know,” Sam growled, crossing the space with the gun still up and the bottle of lube in his other hand, “If I hadn't decided your ass was so worth it. Stop cowering, you're not _dead_.”

Dean was all jammed up in a corner, holding shaking hands over his face. Sam nudged at them with the gun until Dean sobbed and put them out, palms facing Sam, his breathing scared-rabbit quick. He stared desperately up at Sam, pupils blown out wide, terrified.

“Get up,” Sam demanded, not waiting for Dean to even begin to comply; he threw the lube onto the bed and grasped at Dean's jacket, hauling his trembling weight up and throwing him towards the bed just as quick. His pants were still half-off and he stumbled, fortuitously ending up on his hands, ass up towards Sam. “See, you know what I want.”

Dean shifted away from Sam immediately, scrambling to tug his pants back up over his ass, still exposed from where Sam had been groping him before. But then he looked over his shoulder and saw the gun still there, still a threat and he stopped, shuddering out a breath.

Sam took one big step forword, all he needed to get right up against Dean's ass. He aimed the gun at the back of his head and grabbed his dick out of his pants again, guiding it around Dean's plush ass, watching the wet trails shine. “I'm gonna assume you're a virgin down here too, yeah? Since you never had a dick in your mouth before?”

Dean didn't say anything; Sam felt him tense up though, and he turned his head away.

“Figured,” Sam muttered, kicking Dean's legs apart wide, watching the denim bite into his thighs, palming at his ass and pressing his thumb against Dean's hole.

Dean jerked away immediately with a yelp, pushing at the bed, trying to shove himself away in an uncoordinated effort. Sam quickly squashed it all, draping heavy on top of Dean, jamming the gun into the back of his neck. Dean went still.

“Don't. Honestly, the choice is either I shoot you in the head or I fuck your tight little ass and I think I'm being really, really generous here. You should be thanking me,” Sam added the last in a whisper against Dean's ear, and then pulled himself back up, grabbing the lube and popping the cap. “If you're _really_ good, I might even keep you around instead of turning you in,” he said thoughtfully, dripping lube down Dean's ass, not caring at the mess it made on his pants. Mess was okay. He dribbled some on his fingers too, pressing them right up against Dean, no more waiting.

Still, Dean tried to squirm away, so Sam pressed the gun harder, making sure the ever-present threat was _more_ present until Dean stopped moving, but did not relax.

His ass was tight against Sam's fingertip, just the index rubbing at him. Sam drew back enough to watch. “Aren't you going to ask about me keeping you, boy? Because, I mean, of all the houses to break into, you have to pick the one that's got a _dungeon_.” Sam chuckled to himself, working his finger up inside Dean, sighing at the clench around him. “Yeah, keeping you around.”

“No, no, don't,” Dean choked out against the sheet, his breath puffing out faster and faster, face red. “Stop, it's already too much, it's - “

“I'm using lube,” Sam protested, mock-innocently, pushing his long finger in all the way and gently twisting it out until he felt Dean relax just a bit around it. Then he started actually fucking him with it, quick jabbing trusts that wrenched gorgeous little sobs out of Dean. “I mean, I'm being nicer than they'd be in _jail_ , you know?”

“Oh god, stop,” Dean groaned against the sheets, but his hips were just starting to rock up against Sam and down against the bed, clearly trying for whatever friction he could find, even while he protested.

“Nope,” Sam told him, simple and direct. He made good right away, twisting two fingers into Dean's ass, working them in slower than before. He needed to see more, so he scraped the gun down Dean's back while he leaned away, biting his lip to see his long digits disappearing into the barely stretched hole. “Fuck. Fucking _tight_. You're gonna cry when it's my dick.”

“Don't, _don't_ ,” Dean tried again, fisting at the sheets with white knuckles, his eyes scrunched up shut, mouth a grimace.

“Can't fucking wait,” Sam rushed out, and it was true, he really couldn't. Certainly, if Dean were an actual virgin, he'd take more time but thankfully he didn't have to. He pulled his fingers out and started slicking up his dick while he talked, leaning back over Dean. “I mean literally, I cannot _wait_ to make you sob on my dick. Gonna be so pretty, those big fuck-me eyes dripping while I pound you. Isn't it gonna be nice?”

Dean panted through clenched teeth for a few seconds and then he sort of exploded, twisting half around to face Sam, his jaw flexing angry. “No, you're fucking _sick_ , it's sick what you're doing, you should be - “

Sam listened with raised eyebrows for about four seconds before he knocked the gun right up against Dean's cheek, watching him pale against the cool metal. “I should be _what_? In jail? I'll meet you there, buddy,” he chuckled a bit, guiding the dripping head of his dick against Dean's shiny-wet hole, so slowly pressing against the snug rim. “Might have to fight for your ass in jail though. Not sure you'd be worth it. Better this way.”

“Sick fucking fuck,” Dean muttered against the sheets, his breath coming in little sobs.

Sam pushed in so, so slow and Dean was a pro, tightening up the whole time so the drag was insane, so close to virgin-tight that it was easy to forget for a second that he definitely wasn't. He had the noises down too, his mouth falling open to gasp in air and to punch out a sharp, warbling moan when Sam stopped. Then he broke into pants, trying to twist his head back and look but ending up against the gun again.

“Not done yet,” Sam grunted, his free hand thumbing at Dean's hole, watching his dick push in at a maddeningly leisurely pace. “Almost. Not so bad right?”

“It's too big,” Dean cried, actually fucking cried, trying to jerk his hips away from Sam, but there was nowhere to go. And then he gasped suddenly, eyes flaring wide. “Oh my god, you don't – you didn't put anything on?”

“Heh, nope,” Sam chuckled, his bottom lip catching between his teeth, pushing in the rest of the way and groaning happily, shoving deeper just to feel Dean's balls squish against his and to see what kind of noises Dean would make at _that_. “I figured, he's a virgin, better give him something good. And it doesn't get much better than bareback, does it?”

Dean was sobbing, muffled, his face pushed into the blankets. His grip on them had gone slack at some point and he was just laying there, crying and pliant with his eyes squeezed shut, cheeks wet and lashes heavy, thick with tears.

 _Beautiful_ , Sam thought, couldn't help it, one hand curling curiously between Dean and the bed to grab at his dick. He was soaked, the bed was too, and throbbing hard. Dean jumped when he gripped it and again when he laughed roughly, giving it a smooth stroke. “Yeah, that's what I thought. You're fucking dripping. I'll get you off, like it or not. “

“I don't – that's not – just _stop it,_ stop touching me,” Dean forced out, not looking, his face crimson blotches.

“Fine, your loss,” Sam said, giving Dean's dick one last stroke before he pulled off of it. “Aren't going to need it anyway,” he promised, and focused. God, Dean was still tight as hell, didn't seem to be adjusting at all and it was perfect. It was going to make everything so much faster but that was okay. That was probably better, since Sam's arm was getting tired of holding the gun against Dean's face, and he couldn't imagine how sore Dean's muscles were going to be from all this tension afterwards. But fuck, it was worth it.

Sam didn't warn him before he started fucking him properly. He barely even pulled out before he pumped in again, only dragging back in the smallest increments, so Dean had to push up on his toes every time. He stopped crying though; Sam watched his face close, watched his mouth slack open and his eyes go soft, fluttering open, setting back on the gun. He went even tighter after that and Sam fucking growled at it.

“Up, c'mon,” he shoved at the backs of Dean's thighs, pushing with his hand and his hips until Dean scrambled up onto the bed on his knees and Sam moved with him, not bothering to slide out while he re-positioned. “Better. Gonna make you come like this,” he said, pushing Dean down so his chest was flat, so it was all ass in the air and the most amazing view, and, Sam knew, the perfect angle too.

He started going harder, more thoroughly fucking Dean until Dean was making noises again, huffing out breath that turned into little groans in no time, but he was fighting them even as Sam ripped them from his throat. So pretty, he sounded so pretty and desperate and still scared but with this delicious undercurrent of _need_ that Sam fucking loved more than was reasonable.

“Good?” He panted, jabbing so hard into Dean that they both groaned and Dean nearly collapsed under him. Might have been on purpose, since it definitely deepened the angle. Sam didn't stop, just drove in over and over, sliding the barrel of the gun against Dean's cheek and gripping hard at his ass, pulling him open and pushing his fingers around Dean's rim, feeling the stretch in every way he could. “Feels real fuckin' good. Hope you're learning a lesson. I'm gonna fuck it into you every fucking day, you know. No one's gonna come looking for you and you're not gonna be able to leave.”

Dean shuddered under Sam, his hips jerking against the sheets, eyes sinking shut again. His noises were clearly coming uncontrollably, all throaty and deep.

“Yeah,” Sam continued, feeling Dean tighten around him again and again, knowing he was pushing himself closer. “Just gonna keep you here for my fucktoy. Gonna make you cry on my dick every goddamned day. That's how sweet your ass is.” He fell forward, ramming a few very hard thrusts into Dean while he clutched the back of his neck and draped hot over his back.

Dean just gasped, his mouth staying open soundlessly but Sam could tell he was coming against the blanket, knowing it from the stuttered movements of his hips, from the even tighter clench of his ass. Sam knew he shouldn't but fuck it, he dropped the gun and grabbed at Dean's hips, holding him firmly still while he pumped in hard and fast, all slapping skin on skin, almost stinging him.

But fuck, it was worth it; Dean was still clenching ridiculously around Sam's dick when he shoved in a few times, merciless, burying deep until he twitched and spilled and kept fucking Dean through the rest, determined to make a mess of him.

“Feel that?” Sam shuddered out, pushing in all the way again, “Do you? Feel how deep I loaded you up?”

“Fuck- fuck you,” Dean panted, his eyes still shut, his body slack against the bed.

“Yeah, you do,” Sam said, sliding out slow and slick, his dick a mess. He rubbed it on Dean's ass and couldn't resist prodding at his fucked out hole with his fingers, drawing a surprised gasp from Dean when he pushed two in just t feel the sticky heat he'd left behind. “You're filthy. Felt you come on me, felt that tight ass loving every fucking second of it. Y'know, you're a real special slut? Not everyone can get off like that. But - “

“Hey, can we – Red? Can we be done?” Dean's voice was firm but clearly tired, wrecked and Sam conceded immediately.

“Yeah, sorry, yeah, was that too much?” He carefully slid his fingers out, kicking off his pants and using them as a makeshift towel on his hand and the smear he'd left on Dean's ass. But he left the come leaking out because, well, it was too pretty right now.

Dean just grunted and then, after a second or two, rolled over and jesus, he was ruined, the sheet was soaked and it was fucking hot. Sam tossed him the pants-towel and puffed out a breath, running his hand through his hair, carefully watching to make sure Dean was okay.

“Yeah, that was...it was fine, I just...I guess too much, I dunno, it was - “ Dean shifted his gaze away while he cleaned up, but he was grinning too.

Sam flipped down beside him, a contented smile curving on his lips, resting his head on his arms. “It's okay, that was good. Right?”

“Um, yeah? Although I probably woulda grabbed the gun when you let go, to be fair.”

“Naw, you were like, hypnotized by my dick.”

Dean snorted a laugh, shrugging off his jacket and his shirt and shuffling out of the sticky spot on Sam's bed to attach himself onto his brother, letting their legs slot together and tucking under his arm. “What was all that slave stuff?”

“I dunno,” Sam shrugged; he hadn't planned it, it just came out and sounded right, and they did have a dungeon after all. “Just kinda thought it might be a fun continuation some time? Cause...yeah, that was a good time.”

“Hmm, yeah,” Dean muttered, his breath warm against Sam's chest, and Sam wrapped him up in his arms , nosing at his sweaty hair. As good as all the hard, desperate fucking felt, this was the perfect culmination. “Ooh, Stockholm syndrome,” Dean said, grinning up at him.

And Sam laughed and nosed at his hair, holding on tight. “Goddamn right, Stockholm syndrome.”


End file.
